His Fire, Her Eyes
by bakasai42
Summary: NaruHina. It's just one possible version of their story, shown as a series of scenes. This is what I think could and probably should happen between these two.


**Disclaimer: **The characters portrayed here are entirely fictional, but not original. The story is mine, and similarity to any other story written by any other author in the past or present is purely coincidental. Please don't sue me!

**Warning: **This is very cheesy. I was listening to Bon Jovi and Air Supply when I wrote this fic, so I think that influenced my thinking a little bit. If you don't like the music these artists produce, then you should probably read something else.

* * *

**His Fire, Her Eyes**

He was hotblooded, and she was bighearted. Better matches have been made before, but she knew this one was good enough. For she had special eyes, and they saw things no one else could. And so, with her special eyes and big heart, she found love for him.

He didn't seem to recognize it, even though a few of their peers had started giving her knowing looks every time he was around. Whether he was simply being dense, or did not see her as anything more than a friend, she did not know. But to her simple spirit, that was immaterial, as were the prying and baffled eyes of the others. Her feelings did not change.

Still, she often wondered if her feelings would be reciprocated. If she bared herself, would he run? Would he hide? Would he turn her away? These possibilities frightened her, and living with her father's harsh criticisms did nothing to help her self-esteem. But the last possibility--that he would melt into her--was exciting and wonderful.

It was hard for her to believe, a dream that was on the cusp of impossibility, but it was within sight. Her eyes were special; with them she saw things no one else could. Her father had taught her well, and from him she learned that if something was within sight, then it was within reach. So she was able to muster up the strength and will to stand firm, determined to grow and better herself, to become a woman beyond reproach, beyond rejection.

* * *

She worked every day. She trained, meditated, and studied, crawling inch by inch towards the standard that she had set for herself. She grew stronger over time, during which she bloomed. And one day, wrapped in the sunlight that flooded her room, she looked in the mirror, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the girl was finally gone. Where she used to be, a woman stood. 

For the rest of that day, her thoughts raced, bouncing back and forth between hope and anxiety. But finally, she decided to go for it. As the butterflies in her stomach flapped their wings, strange attractors that created hurricanes in her heart, she went to visit him. He was jovial and friendly as usual, and he let her into his room. Over potato chips and juice, they talked of nothing, then moved on to little things. It was safe territory, she knew, and felt comfortable. But that wasn't what she was here for.

She guided the conversation, as carefully and discreetly as she could, towards slightly heavier subjects. The focus of their conversation leapt from opinion to reminiscence, from thoughts to feelings. Up to that point, it was just fine.

To this day, she doesn't remember how it happened, but she confessed. It had been harder than she thought, but he was very kind to her. He respected honesty, and recognized courage. That was who he was long ago, and that was who she saw now. As the memory rushed back to her, the scales tipped; in the end, the reward had outweighed the risk.

She was relieved, as was he. He had been admiring her for a long time, but stayed away, always worrying about what would happen. He had occasionally considered telling her, but he knew how many people saw him. So he always decided that no one should be involved in that life, especially not someone as frail and delicate as she was. He knew where she belonged.

But that day, she had come to him, and he was emboldened. He felt foolish for having been so afraid, and decided that he needed to make up for lost time. That night, he kissed her, and held her so tightly that she nearly burst. She was surprised by this, and as she returned the gesture in her own way, emotions cascaded, from his hot blood into her big heart.

It was tender. It was close. It was warm. And best of all, it flowed from one to the other and back again.

Saying goodbye was hard, but her family would be worried. Her father, especially.

* * *

Her father raged at her. 

"He has no family!" he spat. "We are a sacred clan. Our blood has remained pure for centuries, because of the efforts of my father and those who came before him. Every one of us is subservient to that duty. Whatever happens, we must protect the blood. And I will not have you falling for the fox spirit's vessel!" Her cousin attempted to intercede, but he was chastised--"This does not concern you, boy!"--and was helpless as she was.

He went on, sound and fury combined, every syllable dripping and saturated to the limit with disdain. He did not raise a hand to her, but he didn't need to. With words, he beat down and broke her heart, as if that was what it would take to end his daughter's folly. He knew what was good for her, and she did not. "You are still a child, after all." That had hurt the most; her father had special eyes as well, and since he had the advantage of age, he saw more than she did. If he saw nothing more than a child before him, how wrong could he possibly be?

She did not wait for the end. She ran to her room, seeking sanctuary. Behind the door, under the covers, she blushed and fumed and blinked back tears. But she would not sob or weep uncontrollably. He had taught her about pride, and she knew that now, in this place and time, her grief would be her ultimate defeat. Instead, she nursed her heart back to health, and kept her love for him alive.

* * *

They met in secret, despite her father's disapproval. Through his ingenuity and determination, they had managed to evade his scrutiny, making the most of what little time they had. 

Still, it was a tiring arrangement, and over time he grew impatient. Hiding was not in his nature. Hot blood can only be contained for so long, and the pressure was building. She didn't know what to do. Would he tire of this? Would he tire of her? She couldn't blame him, but she could not bring herself to let him go.

One day, he declared that he could not take it anymore. She feared the worst, and asked him not to go.

He looked at her, and chuckled. As he cupped her face in his hands, eyes of mischief staring directly into the eyes of destiny, he assured her that he had no intention of running from her. Ever.

* * *

That had been years ago. 

It had taken a long time, but her father had been impressed by the young man's perseverance and determination. He threw himself in the older man's face over and over again, challenging him, questioning him, asking him what it would take to prove his intentions. Many tests were given, and all of them were successfully done.

So in the end, her father finally saw him for what he was. Not a mere vessel, nor a man with tainted blood. He was a man with hot blood. With this newfound perspective, he decided that perhaps his clan had grown cold and sterile after all those centuries of control. It was about time for a little fire.

And that is how things happened. To this day, her eyes stare into his fire, and his fire burns for her.


End file.
